


Just Between the Two of Us

by AmberBrown



Series: Reading between the Lines [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: During a guarded conversation between Porthos and a recovering Aramis, both men learn that they have more in common than they first thought.
Relationships: Aramis/Porthos
Series: Reading between the Lines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Just Between the Two of Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is set pre-series so Porthos does not know his true heritage at this stage.

Sleep evaded Aramis. There was no comfortable position. The bruises he had received were starting to annoy him. Recovering from a fight was never easy. Even if he, or rather Porthos, had been the winner. He sighed and shifted onto his back. He stared at the infirmary ceiling for a few seconds before looking to his left. Porthos was looking back at him. The Musketeer that had saved his life smiled. Aramis liked to see his friend smile. Porthos was frequently loud and enjoyed being the centre of attention. Since Deschamps and his gang of hangers-on had been dismissed from the garrison Porthos had come into his own. The soldier, then just a cadet, had been quiet and reserved until the men that had been bullying him had taken a step too far and been dismissed by the Captain.

Now Porthos was a popular Musketeer, even more so since he had saved Aramis, twice now from Deschamps. His friend, who had been resting on the next bed, swung his legs to the floor and eased himself up to stand.

'Where are you going?' asked Aramis, it was too early for breakfast.

'To get you more pillows. It's obvious you are uncomfortable. If you are going to remain awake, you might as well be comfortable.'

Aramis watched as Porthos collected the pillows from the other beds before helping him to sit up, arranging the pillows behind him. Aramis could not help a laugh as  
Porthos made a show of plumping up the pillows and straightening the blankets for him.

‘Thank you,' said Aramis, as Porthos sat back on the next bed.

They sat in companionable silence for a few seconds. Aramis mulled over the events of the last few days.

'Deschamps will probably try to have another go at us...' mused Porthos.

'Are you reading my mind?" asked Aramis, who had been thinking the same thing.

Porthos smiled grimly, 'he won't be brought to justice and I was responsible for killin' a couple of his mates. We can't really say anything... and he can't complain about us. What he did to you was wrong. Both sides are at a stalemate.'

Porthos sighed and looked off into the distance.

'We will have to watch each other’s backs,' said Aramis. 'He hates us both. Thinks that neither of us is worthy of our commissions.'

'In any other elite regiment, we wouldn't be,' mused Porthos.

Aramis nodded, 'my very existence... or rather how my existence stated would disgust most of the elite,' he chuckled. 'Despite a fair few nobles using brothels.'

It felt odd to Aramis to talk openly with someone about his birth. Porthos had never made any disparaging remarks to Aramis when he found out. Porthos’ own upbringing in the Court of Miracles gave him something of a similar background. Neither man was of noble stock, at least not legitimately. 

Porthos looked as though he had something to say but seemed reluctant. Aramis wondered what it would be. He did not want his friend to feel reluctant to speak. Porthos realised he was being watched; he looked a little embarrassed.

'I… er... was wondering...'

'Yes?'

'When they mentioned about you leaving the brothel before you had to…'

Aramis looked away. Memories awoken in him that he had tried to keep away.

'Sorry,' said Porthos.

His friend had noticed his reaction, Aramis felt exposed. He had never outright told anyone what had happened before his father had taken him from the brothel. Aramis had never even told his father. His mother, in those last few minutes they had been together, had told him firmly never to talk about it.

A warm hand on his shoulder brought him from his thoughts. Porthos had moved to sit on the edge of his bed. His friend was watching him with concern. Aramis blinked a couple of times. He was surprised how much the memories had affected him. Normally he just suppressed them, beat them into submission, but somehow Porthos’ innocent question had brought them flooding to the surface, threatening to break through the barriers he had built over time.

'I've never mentioned it to anyone," Aramis said.

Porthos shook his head, 'you don't have to talk about it. That's not why I asked. I didn't mean to upset you... I... I shouldn't have said anything.'

'I try to forget it... but it’s bothered me; for years. I spent many hours in confession... but have never felt that I've reached absolution.'

Porthos leaned back slightly, 'I do not think any less of you...' he said firmly.

'You don't even know what I did,' Aramis said with a chuckle, pleased for the levity.

He sobered when he saw the serious expression on Porthos' face, 'I do not think less of you... because I was probably doing similar things.'

MMMM

Porthos had thought for some time about telling someone about his past. Telling them what he had done as a child in order to survive. He knew that most people would not want to listen to what he wanted to tell them. Some might even accuse him of being some sort of twisted individual for what he had done in his past. But Porthos felt he could trust Aramis. And since he had learned of his friends own upbringing Porthos had known Aramis would be the best person to talk to. It had not really surprised him to confirm that Aramis had been involved in some activity at the brothel before he went to live with his father. 

‘You… when you were on the streets, you?’ Aramis seemed shocked.

Porthos smiled, ‘it was one of the easiest ways to make money,’ he said matter of factly. ‘I was too young to join the older boys thieving and not nimble enough, to start with, to pickpocket… but there were always men… rich men who wanted what only I could give them.’

Aramis sniffed, ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that.’

‘It was that or starve,’ continued Porthos. ‘And I think I was also something of a curiosity to a lot of the nobles. The little mongrel seeing to their needs.’

Porthos could not help a smile.

‘I remember one man… he used to seek me out specifically. He paid very well… although I got the impression, he would have liked to take me and keep me after a while. That was when I think I realised how dangerous it was… what I was doing.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Five at the start, about ten when I moved onto stealing and other stuff.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I was eleven when my father took me…’

Porthos wondered if Aramis was going to carry on, he did not want to force the issue. If his friend wanted to talk, he would do, Aramis had clearly kept the information to himself for his entire life.

‘What I did...it taught me a great respect for those women...and the couple of young men that worked there as well...they gave themselves on a daily basis to complete strangers. They could have tried to get work elsewhere. Some of the older women, their sewing was beautiful, intricate work. But the chances of them finding other work was slim. They would have had to move to a different town. They were stuck. At least I got the chance to leave…’

Aramis went back to staring into the distance. Porthos felt a bit guilty for making his friend think about a part of his life that he would rather forget. 

‘I think some of the upper classes have no idea what we have to go through,’ suggested Porthos. 

Aramis shook his head, ‘they know. They see it. They contribute to it. My father contributed to it.’

Porthos could see Aramis’ point. A thought occurred to him. He was not sure if he had any right to ask, but Aramis had been fairly open with him up to that point.

‘Did you do...what you did...by choice?’

‘No.’

Porthos raised his eyebrows. He had not been sure which answer he was expecting, but the coldness to his friend's blunt response shocked him. Aramis saw the surprise.

‘I didn’t know any different. I only knew what happened in that house. I guess…’ he paused looking down, ‘I thought that was what people just did. When I was a little older and I realised… I tried to stop doing it, but the madame…’

Aramis looked into the distance, screwing his eyes shut a little, trying to remember something.

‘Madame Noir… she hit me with a poker, nearly broke my arm. That was when my mother knew I couldn’t stay there. She saved me. I think I would have ended up being killed by Madame or one of the customers.’

‘Sorry,’ said Porthos.

‘Why? You were struggling to survive on the streets whilst I had a bed and a warm fire in the room.’

Porthos shook his head, ‘I knew what I was doing. They thought they were taking advantage of me...but really, I was taking advantage of them…and I knew it wouldn’t last. The older boys had already told me once I was big enough, they would teach me to pick locks and pockets.’

‘...and I didn’t know any different…’

Porthos watched as Aramis thought through what they had said. 

‘I didn’t mean to bring back memories for you…’ he said after a few moments when Aramis had not spoken. ‘I’ve just never had anyone to talk to about it. I know I’m not the only person to have managed to get away from a life like that...but people-’

‘People like us don’t always get as lucky as we both have,’ concluded Aramis. ‘When I left...him. And joined the army I realised how lucky I was. I got to see the state that the poor lived in from the other side. If I hadn’t been killed by Madame, I doubt she would have let me, and probably my mother, stay there for much longer.’

‘I guess circumstance has smiled on us both...in an odd way,’ said Porthos with a shrug.

They went back to their quiet contemplation.

Porthos was not sure if he had done the right thing, bringing up their past. He had hoped that he would find a kindred spirit in Aramis, but all he seemed to have done was cause his friend to remember and recount things he was not keen to think about. Aramis had mentioned seeking absolution for things he had no choice but to be involved with. Porthos got the impression Aramis was still haunted by his perceived sins. Porthos wished he could get his friend to accept it was not his choice, not his fault. Porthos had never felt guilty about what he had done, he had not spoken about it outside of his former home but that was only because he knew society, the upper classes, would not appreciate what he had done to survive. 

Aramis was still looking off into the distance

'Have you ever gone back?' Porthos asked.

Aramis refocused on him.

'To my mother or my father?" he asked.

Porthos did not know how to respond. He leaned back, expecting Aramis to say something, anything, else. 

He did not.

'I don't know who my father is,' Porthos pointed out.

Aramis laughed, 'I do not have a high opinion of mine,' he said.

An uneasy silence settled. Porthos wondered if their friendship was threatened. He wished he had never asked, never said anything. It was not until he felt the warmth of Aramis' hand on his knee that he snapped out of his spiralling thoughts.

'I've not been back,' Aramis said. 'I've not visited my father since I left him... and I've never returned to the place of my birth.'

Another pause before Aramis smiled his warm, friendly smile.

'You didn't expect me to be this conflicted and frankly confused man.'

Porthos shook his head, 'I thought we might have enjoyed the common ground, but you've clearly been affected by it more than me. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' said Aramis, the smile lighting his eyes up. 'I will admit that it is...comforting to know that there is someone who knows what it's like to have been... used. Even if you were more-'

'Willing?' suggested Porthos.

Aramis laughed again. Porthos could not help a sigh of relief. He watched Aramis blink a couple of times.

'I think,' Aramis said, 'that you need to put the pillows back. You have worn me out with the confessions.'

Porthos leaned forward, grabbing a couple of pillows, he threw them on the next bed before helping Aramis to lie down.

'You don't have to stay,' said Aramis.

'The captain told me to look after you.'

Aramis yawned, 'well don't wear yourself out. You have been quite busy as well...'

Porthos knew Aramis was right, he assured himself that his friend was settled before stretching out on the bed next to him again. He glanced across, Aramis was already asleep, although he looked tense. Porthos wondered if he was wound up by what they had been talking about. He still felt guilty for causing his friend to remember things from his past. He decided to apologise in the morning and after that, they did not need to mention their past again. Just knowing that they were similar was enough. They had a link, more than a friendship now. 

They were brothers.

MMMM

As he slowly opened his eyes Aramis realised, he was alone in the infirmary. He wondered where his friend had gone, the bed next to him had been tidied up, there was no sign of Porthos. Aramis slowly eased himself up to sit, the injuries he had received the previous day seemed to conspire together to cause him to struggle. It took him a few minutes to get into something vaguely resembling a sitting position. He reached out for the cup of water that had been left on the side table, he watched his hand shaking as he picked up the cup. The weakness annoyed him. Although he knew he would recover.

He thought about the conversation from the previous night. Poor Porthos had not expected him to be quite so maudlin. Aramis was happy to admit that it was a relief to find someone that he could talk to about what had really happened in his childhood. Someone that was not a priest. The priests he had confessed to had all been judgemental, sending him off to pay penance for something that was not his choice to have done. Although Aramis was not sure what else to expect from a narrow-minded religion that he followed despite its dislike of his past. He sighed, he could feel himself falling into a never-ending pit of self-recrimination, something he did not want to happen. Aramis realised that talking to an impartial man who knew what he had been through was better than talking to men who had no idea what had happened to him. Perhaps trying to suppress the past was not the best thing for him to do. He knew that he could not talk to just anyone, but now Porthos had offered himself up as a more understanding if unofficial, confessor. 

A couple of scratches at the door before it was pushed open had Aramis unable to prevent a smile. Porthos had returned with a tray of what looked like a wholesome breakfast for the pair of them. Aramis smiled more broadly when he saw the slight look of trepidation on his friend’s face. Porthos was worried that he had upset him with the conversation the previous night. 

‘What?’ asked Porthos warily.

Aramis continued to smile, ‘I’m sorry about last night...how negative I was. It’s just that I've really not talked about it to anyone before. I think it would be good to know that there is someone who understands what I went through-’

‘Different circumstances, but similar enough,’ interjected Porthos, the smile that Aramis liked creeping back onto his face.

The breakfast was eaten with another of the companionable silences that Aramis had come to enjoy. As Porthos took the tray from his lap, Aramis decided he could trust his friend with another worry he had. 

‘I know we said last night we would have to watch each other's backs...but I don’t want you to get in danger or trouble if Deschamps uses my past against me.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Porthos, who was obviously confused. 

‘He’s got links with my father, he managed to work out what I did as a child and he’s going to try to use that against me at some point. You were just… in the way.’

Porthos shook his head, ‘I think you’ve got it the wrong way around,’ he said. 

It was Aramis’ turn to be confused.

‘Deschamps went after me first. It was only when you defended me that he changed his focus onto you.’

Aramis looked away for a few seconds, realising his friend was correct. 

‘Then I will continue to protect you,’ said Aramis with a gesture to his own bruised body.

‘That’s all I ask… my hero…’ replied Porthos fluttering his eyelashes and doing his best to look coy.

Aramis laughed.

‘It’s weird though,’ said Porthos, ‘my upbringing, in the court, I don’t think it would be such a shock to people the things I got up to. They would appreciate that what I was doing was for survival. But you, because you were largely brought up by your father-’

Aramis made a derisive face but indicated for Porthos to continue.

‘-it would be seen as shocking that you started off in a... where you started off. And even more, shocking what you were made to do. And they wouldn’t be as sympathetic towards you.’

‘My father both rescued me and cursed me,’ said Aramis, who had never thought of his upbringing in such simple terms. 

‘I got you a change of clothes,’ said Porthos, glancing at the neatly piled items on the bed next to Aramis.

Aramis frowned; he was not looking forward to dressing. Porthos stepped up to him.

‘I will help you; I’m not just going to leave you. Treville did tell me to keep an eye on you and that includes helping you to dress and get moving again.’

‘Let’s get on with it then,’ said Aramis with a sigh, pushing the blankets off him at the same time. 

True to his word, Porthos assisted Aramis with the arduous task of getting into his breeches and shirt, even going as far as tucking the billowing shirt in. Aramis found his friend to have a lightness of touch that was at odds with his general tough outward personality. 

Aramis wondered if he could ask his friend something else, he had never shared with anyone. Something he guarded more closely than his years in the brothel.

‘Since you left the Court,’ he said tentatively, feeling a little apprehensive about what he was about to say. ‘Have you ever...been with... a man again?’

Porthos who had his back to Aramis paused. Aramis immediately thought he had read his friend wrongly. Porthos slowly turned back to face him, his expression unreadable.

Had he just made a huge mistake?

MMMM

‘Since you left the Court,’ Aramis asked as Porthos turned away to pick up the injured man’s boots. ‘Have you ever...been with a man again?’

The hesitance at the start of Aramis’ question had instantly put Porthos on the alert. But he was not expected what his friend actually said. He was expecting him to ask if he had been involved in any further criminal activity. Criminal activity along the lines of thieving. Porthos straightened up. He was not sure what to expect when he turned back to face his friend. 

The instant look of worry on Aramis’ face told Porthos all he needed to know. He also knew he had to ease his friends mind quickly. 

‘Forget I said it. Please...I…’

Aramis did not know where to look, he looked ashamed. Porthos could not allow that. His somewhat conflicted friend had just asked him something that had taken a lot of courage. 

‘It’s alright,’ said Porthos quietly, he sat on the bed opposite Aramis who still looked concerned. 

‘Are you asking because you have?’

Aramis did not move, did not nod, did not shake his head. But Porthos knew what the answer was. Why else would Aramis have asked him?

‘Yes,’ said Porthos, deciding he would answer his friend's question. ‘I have… And I would not, therefore, judge you if you have as well.’

The immediate relief that spread across his friend’s face made Porthos smile.

‘And I’m flattered that you would trust me enough to talk to me about it,’ continued Porthos.

‘I trust you… well, there was a moment just then… but you’ve saved my life, it tends to instil a level of trust in a person.’

‘I’m surprised that you have though,’ said Porthos thinking back to Aramis’ comments about seeking absolution for his activities as a child.

‘I was corrupted,’ said Aramis, breaking eye contact as he spoke. ‘I’m warped and broken… it’s wrong. But I still wanted to. Needed to.’

Porthos was not sure how to react.

‘I’ve only been with men I’ll never see again. People travelling through. There are a couple of taverns where, if you’re careful, you can find someone who is the same way inclined.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I know the ones, I’ve done the same. But I don’t see it as being corrupted, or wrong. I know it’s not a loving relationship, it’s just sex. It’s a fuck. I enjoy it.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I do as well, in the moment. But afterwards, it just feels so wrong.’

Aramis looked down; the shame of the statement palpable. Porthos decided to try to keep the conversation going, to bring his friend back from the brink of self-loathing. Aramis had nothing to be ashamed of.

Porthos chuckled, hoping it sounded genuine, ‘do you have those really guarded conversations, where you dance around the subject for about half an hour over a drink as you both check each other out. Making sure he’s not someone who’s going to turn you in?’

Aramis nodded.

‘I think the one thing that goes in our favour,’ continued Porthos, pleased that Aramis was at least engaging in the conversation, ‘is that we know a soldier or lawman when they are trying to be something they are not. Several times I’ve walked straight out of the tavern ‘cos I’ve recognised them.’

Aramis sighed, ‘I was in one once when it was raided, I was lucky, I got out, but I know several men were caught.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes thinking about the consequences of their illicit activities. 

‘Do you think,’ said Porthos, ‘that it would ever be acceptable.’

‘It’s wrong,’ said Aramis bluntly.

Porthos decided not to pursue the idea, his friend obviously did not agree with what they did despite wanting to continue. He wondered why Aramis had asked him about it, did he just want the reassurance that he was not alone? Perhaps his idea that he had been corrupted as a child helped him to deal with what he needed to do as an adult. Porthos knew he did not need to sleep with men, he wanted to, freely chose to. Despite how dangerous it was. 

Porthos set himself a challenge, he would change Aramis’ mind. He would make his friend see that there was nothing wrong with what they did. He knew it would be difficult and he knew there was a chance it could drive Aramis away from him, but the thought of leaving his friend with his confused feelings was awful. 

Aramis had done too much for Porthos already. It was time to repay the favour. 

The End

_To be continued... ___


End file.
